


Snuff

by Sam_Haine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-24 11:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4917073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Haine/pseuds/Sam_Haine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his family, Rick Grimes meets a group of survivors who have set up their community at a prison. He is accepted into the group and creates new relationships with members. it turns out Daryl is his saving grace from everything he's been through. What happens next? Will Rick ever let go of Lori, to love a Dixon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This storyline is just about Rick and Daryl meeting for the first time at the prison. Not sure how long itll be. but, enjoy! :)

Snuff

A New Family

Rick Grimes had been walking. Trudging dead like a walker for miles. His feet hurt so much that the soreness in them vibrated down to his hard heels. The leather in his boots was rapidly rotting like the skin on the walkers he stuttered along with. The black pair of jeans he had worn for months had become almost like a second skin for him, the dirt and muck filling the small spaces between the material and his skin. As for the brown, plaid shirt, it was gone, in tatters hanging off of his body like dirty rags. His hair had grown long and had returned to its natural state of curls. His face was pushing a beard like Santa Claus, he remotely noted as it itched occasionally. He wouldn't be surprised if there were insects and bugs living in there already. 

His boots made a muffled clicking sound as their heels hit the hard asphalt. He had been limping for three days now, due to a previous leg injury. Three days since ...she died. Three days since Lori, Carl and Judith died. They had all been viciously attacked by a swarm of walkers in their tent while Rick had been out looking for food. He remembers hurrying proudly back to camp, to show them the huge boar he'd bagged for dinner. He heard the screams and immediately dropped the heavy boar, rushing to camp only to see the last flicker of light leave his wife's eyes as she held on to an already dead Carl and Judith. 

When he'd finished screaming and murdering all walkers within his sights, he collapsed in the center of all the carnage and bodies and cried some more. He'd failed. Again. He missed the world so bad, and now he'd lost the other world ...his family. 

Rick had never been a mentally sound person in the old world ...now he seemed to permanently be in a state of catatonic shock. He hardly ate, didn't sleep, and didn’t bathe in the small pond nearby. He just simply gave up. Everyday he'd waited for another herd to blow through so they could end it for him. End the nightmare that was replaying on a loop in his messed up head. But none came. It was almost as if they were spiting him and with every passing second, he grew to hate the things with a passion he'd once reserved for the devil alone. 

There was no hope! He told himself that every day. Hope was dead. Hope was just an illusion. It was something that people held on to when they had nothing left. Hope was for the weak. That's why he found it so hard to believe this man he'd stumbled into while trudging like the dead. 

Said his name was Daryl.

The other was Glenn.

And the woman was Maggie ...they had asked him three stupid questions that made no sense at all to him, but he answered them anyway. 

"A lot."

"Three."

"They were already bit." 

The man with the crossbow, Daryl, nodded and asked if he'd like to come back with them, to their community, to survive. He scoffed and spat a vicious "why?” 

The Korean nodded with surety.   
"Because we can't survive alone. Numbers are important ..." Yadda yadda ...Rick didn't want to hear the rest. It was all the same solidarity bullshit, he was so sick of it. 

"I'm good," he answered and frowned at their gaping mouths. 

The woman, Maggie regarded him with sad eyes.   
"You can't stay out here much longer, you won't survive." 

She sounded southern he assessed while shaking his head again, no. He didn't want to survive. Just wanted to be left alone. 

Daryl scoffed and took aim with his crossbow.   
"If ya'aint joinin' us then yer a threat. We'll have to take ya out, jus' ta be sure."

Rick fixed the man with a skeptical glare his frosty blue eyes clashing with Daryl's darker sapphires. Rick's expression screamed, "I dare ya". Daryl replied by raising his crossbow to eye level, taking aim, right between Rick's eyes. With his finger on the trigger, Maggie immediately stepped in and held her hand up to the redneck. 

"No Daryl, don't ...," she warned, green eyes regarding Rick with curiosity. The man had not moved an inch since being threatened; a gun was lodged in his gun belt but remained there, still as a rock. Probably weighed as much too. 

...  
Three weeks later Rick found himself at Daryl's so-called haven, which was actually a penitentiary, a goddamn prison to keep him locked in. He hated it, hated the way he was kept in chains and led around the place by escorts ...like some damn prisoner. If they only knew he was a cop before this. 

Apparently the leader of their little band of survivors was not Daryl, but was in fact a guy named Shane, who had a thick mop of hazel curls on his head and had deep brown doe eyes. Shane was a cop as well, he'd learned, and he was very strict about how things were done and run at the prison. Needless to say, he was well respected among his people. 

He'd met Carol, the group's surrogate mother, who had wispy grey hair and a bright smile that belonged in the old world. She was in charge of cooking their food, and washing their clothes. She would assign whatever duties that had to be done for the day to the rest of young women and men they'd put her in charge of. Oh yes, Carol was nice. But he didn't dare cross her, because he saw what she could do with a gun, the second day he'd been there. Taken out three rabid prisoners who wanted to take the place, each with a headshot from at least a sniper's distance away. 

Then there was Michonne, who, carried her katana wherever she went. She was like a ninja, Rick swore. Quiet, fast as lightning, and lethal when she attacked. She had rich, ebony skin that shined in the sun, and dreads that hung low around her face. Rick was also a bit unnerved by her, because she was so serious all the time. But he'd seen her once ...with a baby, Maggie and Glenn's baby, holding it and smiling warmly almost as if it were her own. She was only as deadly as her intention ...but when the time came to be kind and loving, it showed. 

There were others that he'd already figured out, like Glenn who believed in keeping their humanity, T-Dog who was easy going but fiercely protective, Dale, Amy and Andrea who seemed like a little family of their own, and then there was Daryl. 

Wild, silent, curious looking Daryl. Rick didn't know what but something about the man irked him. He was a redneck, but wasn't loud and obnoxious like most were. He communicated with the Asian and the African Americans well, no racist comments there. And he did not disrespect the women in their little group either. He seemed especially close to Carol. He'd heard her call him "Pookie" once. 

Daryl was the group's hunter. Sometimes he would be gone for days and nights, lost into the woods, tracking deer and squirrels for dinner. And he always came back. Always came back with a deer or a boar, even an eagle once. And if he didn't bring back something that large, he'd make up for it by catching an extra string of squirrels or three owls instead of two. The man was a provider, well respected amongst his people. 

He would also go out on supply runs with Glenn and Maggie. Rick's seen how idle Daryl could get when he was in the prison walls too long. An outside cat. Daryl was quiet. Meek, even, whenever someone paid him a compliment or pat him on the back for a good days hunt, he'd flinch away. Overall he seemed like a rough and tumble sort of fellow, who was silent, but friendly, and fiercely protective of his people. 

That's one thing Rick realized when he came to the prison. He was a bit put off by Daryl threatening to kill him the day they'd met, but then he realised that the man was only trying to protect his group. Deep down, Daryl was a sweetheart ...Carol had said that much. 

"Hey Rick?"

Breaking out of his reverie from staring up at the top bunk bed in his cell, Rick turned to see Hershel, Maggie's father staring warily at him from the outside the bars. 

Rick nodded in acknowledgement. 

"Can you help me with something?"

Shrugging as if to say he had nothing else to do, Hershel opened his cell and led him out of the prison and into the bright sun light in the prison's yard. After twenty or so footsteps, Rick stopped and frowned at the old man. 

"What is it son?," he inquired, squinting in the blinding sunlight. 

"You didn't put cuffs on me, ...and no offense but you don't exactly look strong enough to come after me if I run off," Rick replied, both hands on his waist like he did when he was a Sheriff. 

The old man laughed, much to his credit, nodding his head in agreement.   
"You're right, I can't. But I trust you Rick. You don't seem like the kind of man that would try something stupid like that. You've been here for a few weeks now, you've seen how it is. How bad it can get ...whether you agree with me or not, its better in here than out there. I know you've lost something, ...we all have. But now you get to start over, or at least make amends. That's your decision to make."

Rick's brows furrowed in deep thought as he tried to memorize what Hershel just told him. Because it made sense. In the first place, Rick was definitely not going to try and take this place. There was a baby, an old man, and people ...just trying to survive. And he wasn't going to take that away from them. From Carol, Maggie, Glenn, Hershel ...Daryl. 

So instead, he picked up the shovel and started digging where Hershel had showed him to. It turned out the old man wanted his help to do a bit of farming, to grow fruit and vegetables to sustain them when their supply runs came back smaller each week. So for the entire day, Rick dug and prepared the land for seeds that Hershel had given him. 

The sun was just setting, casting a deep orange glow across the yard when Rick heard the deep rumbling of a motorbike approaching. He looked up and saw Daryl, with Glenn and Maggie tailing behind him in that blue Ford pick- up. The couple carried their supplies into the prison while Daryl trudged up to Hershel where he was just instructing Rick on how to plant his first seed. 

The hunter handed over several packs of an assortment of seeds. He squinted at Rick who was soil deep in his work, on his hands and knees planting away. 

"He aint chained?," he rasped, quietly. 

"No, figured he could be more of a help with this. He's getting pretty good at it."

"Hmm, ...well, got us a deer on the way. Already cleaned it, so Carol's probably started to cook it."

Nodding Hershel looked back at Rick who hadn't said a word, so immersed in his work.   
"I have to talk to Maggie, think you can help him finish up here then you two can get back to the prison?"

When Daryl nodded the affirmative, the old man set out towards the building, leaving the two estranged men in the silence of a cool evening. Daryl simply leaned against a post nearby and watched Rick work, aware of how dilligent he was. Rick genuinely seemed to be into his little farming gig. 

"Yer doin' good," Daryl murmured, the odd compliment making Rick pause, ...more like freeze in place. The redneck flushed hotly, feeling stupid for making small talk. He really wasn't though, he just thought that if Rick got praised for his work, he'd be encouraged to stay and help them to eventually build a stronger community. 

Rick grunted softly as he planted his last seed, rising to his feet, his muscles groaning in protest. He watered the newly cropped soil before taking off his dirt-stained gloves and nodding awkwardly to Daryl, letting him know that he was finished. Wordlessly Daryl started walking back to the prison, Rick following timidly behind him. 

When he entered the common area, he was immediately assaulted by a blast of warmth at the sight of the group all cozied up and smiling in the friendly candlelight, taking out food and passing bowls around to the rest. It was almost like they were a family and something in Rick's heart just shattered as he remembered Lori and Carl ...and Judy. Blinking furiously so that no one could see his eyes go glassy, he took a step back but bumped into Daryl's chest. 

"Sorry," he muttered, turning around to face the hunter who was regarding him calmly. Rick looked down, unable to meet the man's eyes. 

"It’s okay," Daryl murmured softly. 

Something about having a body this close to him made Rick want, no, crave to just crash into him and cry all his heartache away. God, he wanted to cry. Needed to ...but he couldn't. These people, Daryl, didn't owe him anything.   
His thoughts were interrupted by someone clinking a fork and a glass together. 

"Guys," Shane announced as if he was making a toast. "Rick, will be joining us at dinner. He's been here for a while now, and now he's helping Hershel with his farming project. He's being gradually brought into the fold of how we do things around here. And we all hope that you can trust us Rick, as much as we're putting our trust in you." 

Feeling suddenly so self-conscious, Rick stuttered and nodded jerkily unable to say anything. 

"Go wash up sweetie, I'll make you a plate," Carol said, patting his shoulder kindly. 

He practically ran to the shower.


	2. High up and on the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick looks at the flowers .....lol, jk. He takes his first watch, in the watchtower, with a certain someone.

Snuff 

Chapter Two - High Up and on the Edge

The cold rush of air in the shower that hit Rick the minute he made his escape from the common room made him gasp out in relief. He rested his head back against the tiles, exhausted and sick of it all. God it all looked way too normal and ...familiar in there. The group acted so much like a real family that he'd been reminded of Lori and how she wanted their family to be like that. And how they were actually like that for a while. And it was beautiful. 

But now, all their hopes for a perfect little family even in the midst of the apocalypse were crushed, ripped out of them just like she had been ripped out of his life. Another pain wracked sob escaped his throat before he swallowed it down and got in the shower. He watched the slightly brown water numbly as it slid and swirled around his feet before being sucked into the drain hole. 

When he returned to the common room, the group was still there, all cozied up, some still eating while the others swapped stories. He noticed that Daryl was absent however. At the sound of his footsteps they all turned to him and smiled. Carol brought him food and a cup of water. He thanked her timidly and before they could ask him to join them and talk about himself, he retreated into his cell. 

He sat there a while, playing with his food, none of it actually went down his throat. He felt like a jerk for wasting the food, seeing as it was so precious nowadays. But with thoughts of Lori and his children assaulting his mind, he felt that he'd lost his appetite. He knew he had to try though. So with a tentative gulp, he brought the spoon up to his lips ...and then put it back in the bowl. 

He slammed his head back against the wall, almost ready to breakdown into tears when he saw Daryl walking quietly past his cell, crossbow over his shoulder. Abandoning his food, he crawled out of bed and followed the man out of his cell. 

"Hey, ...where're you goin'?," he asked timidly, hoping that it didn't come out like a demand instead of a genuine inquiry. 

Daryl, for the most part, looked ready to shoot whoever had so rudely startled him without warning, but the man restrained himself. Rick was grateful.   
"'M'on watch tonight," he rumbled, sliding the indian style poncho over his broad shoulders. 

"Where's that?"

"Up in the guard tower ...three. Why?," Daryl asked, suspiciously. His sapphire eyes never lost their warmth though and Rick felt less afraid when he looked into them. 

"Can ...can I go with you?"

Daryl's eyes narrowed even more warily at him.   
"Why?", the hunter repeated.

Looking down at his feet in utter defeat Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, formulating words in his head trying his best not to say the wrong things. Daryl probably thought he was trying to escape. 

"Its ...its clustered in there. I ...I feel, um smothered in here. Just need some fresh air," he muttered looking down at his boots. 

After thirty agonizing seconds -Rick was counting- he heard a soft hum of approval from Daryl before the man turned on his heel, leaving Rick to follow. 

.....  
About an hour had passed since they'd both entered the guard tower. Another had gone and all that was said between them had been a curt "close the door" from Daryl. After that, the man had returned to his silent mode, deep blue eyes taking in the dark landscape before them. His crossbow lay at his feet, right there when/if he needed it. 

Daryl could tell Rick was buzzed. The man was practically bursting at the seams with deeply held secrets and thoughts and grief. The agony in his huge aqua blue eyes was obvious. He had been through something horrible, Daryl deduced, scoffing softly at the stupidity of his assessment. Of course he's been through something horrible! Remember the apocalypse you dumbass?!, he berated himself mentally. 

Shaking his head slightly, he forced his way out of those dreary thoughts and instead focused on what he actually came out here for - watch. 

"Christ this is torture," Rick muttered from somewhere behind him. When he turned around he saw that Rick was curled up on the floor of the guard tower, on his butt, arms curled round his bent knees. It was cute, so Daryl scoffed at the man. 

"What is?" 

"Came out here to clear my mind, but ...its so goddamn quiet all I can do is listen to what's in my head," he explained to a nonchalant Daryl. 

"Well ...yer not doin' it right," the redneck murmured softly. 

Looking up at him with huge, trusting, no - pleading eyes, Rick asked "How?"

Daryl avoided his gaze suddenly and shrugged.   
"You jus' gotta forget it man. Listen to the sounds of the crickets chirping. The wind shakin' the leaves. Critters howling and clicking in the woods nearby. Jus' gotta listen."

When Rick didn't respond, Daryl sighed.   
"Come here."

Slowly, Rick rose to his feet and joined Daryl on railing, eyes taking in the layout of the prison's yard down below. 

"Yer lookin' in the wrong place again," Daryl chuckled softly. 

Rick smiled slightly before following Daryl's gaze into the distant forest, in between the trees and thick brush. And the more he listened, his smile dropped into a soft line of realization. He just had to look in the right place to hear the right sounds ...the right silence. And in that silence he swore he could almost hear Lori's sweet voice as she talked about work and Carl's school stuff while making pancakes. Don't matter if they always came out lumpy and gross, Rick recalls it with a peaceful demeanor. 

A single solitary tear rolls down his cheek and he smiles brokenly before a soft sob escapes his throat. He could almost feel Daryl stiffen beside him at the sound and cringes. God, how manly of him to cry infront of a man he just met. Rick could also feel himself becoming cold and detatched again. It felt ugly.

"It'll get better Rick ...whatever it is," Daryl murmured, still looking out into the forest, lost in thought. 

That seemed to set him off.   
"You don't know shit about how I feel. It won't get better just cos' you say so. Who the hell are you? You don't know anything ...you can't help me!" 

"Shh!," Daryl hissed at him, as the walkers at the left fences started snarling louder. 

"Don't tell me to 'shh'!"

"You're riling them up!" Daryl hissed back. 

"I don't care. They're behind the fences. I could go take em out right now. I've got a knife and my gun! I'll take them out one by one ...," Rick snarled, taking long strides to leave the tower as if he were on a mission. 

"Rick -!," Daryl growled grabbing his arm, only to have Rick spin around and aim a blow at his face. Daryl ducked easily out of the way, but Rick kept pounding uselessly at his chest, the angry bellow subsiding quickly into soft, agonized cries. The fight had left him the minute he'd started crying and now, he just buried his face in Daryl's chest and cried hard into the poncho.

Daryl for the most part was frozen in place. He'd never been one to offer physical comfort to anyone male or female. He wasn't anyone's rock or their knight in shining armour. He didn't know how to make Rick feel better, so he just stood there, and let Rick cry out all of his frustration and anger, and hurt. A deep sob wrangled out of his throat and he tightened his arms around Daryl's torso, causing Daryl to inadvertently wrap strong arms round Rick's shaking body, holding him there, together. 

By the time the night was over and dawn was just breaking in the sky overhead, Rick had fallen asleep, with his arms still wrapped around Daryl who for the most part kept his calm at such close contact with another human being. He gently laid Rick down on the tower floor and draped his poncho over him sadly. 

Rick Grimes was a broken man. Of that, Daryl had no doubt.


	3. Suicide King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick thinks about thangs ....or he overthinks them. either way, Daryl is there to lighten the darkness that threatens to overpower him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 should be soon, im up to my neck in History essays so time isnt really on my side, then again, it never is. enjoy my lovely people. :D

Snuff 

Chapter Three - Suicide King

When Rick woke up, it was morning, and a bright shaft of sunlight shone into the guard tower like a damn beacon. He squinted his eyes that were watering in the blinding light and burrowed deeper into the smoky scented blanket wrapped around him. It gave off a warmth that rivalled that of a furnace, and Rick almost cried at how soft it felt as it brushed across his skin. 

When he closed his eyes, images of last night came flooding into his mind, of the group ...the family, Daryl and him staring into the forest, him bitching about Lori and attacking Daryl. And then, ...burying his face into Daryl's chest to smother his stupid sobs. Sighing in defeat, he just lay there, dying to go back to sleep. God, how would he face the man later today? How would he face him for the rest of his life? 

Peeking with one eye from beneath the poncho, he saw the dark profile of Daryl with his back facing towards him, the hunter observing the prison's yard. He watched every little movement the man made, muscles rippling as Daryl stretched and yawned in the golden sunlight. Something in Rick rippled just like Daryl's muscles but he quickly dismissed it with a voluntary shudder. He caught sight of Daryl turning around just in time to shut his eyes tight and fall into the pretense of sleep. 

A rough hand rubbed gently at his shoulder, over the poncho and Rick froze like an idiot. God, that felt good.   
"Hey," the man's raspy voice brushed over Rick's ear, God yes, yes please, Rick thought, his mind in ecstasy.   
"I know yer awake. Saw you wake up." 

Wait - what?   
Rick's fantasy dissolved instantly and he was jolted awake by a slap of reality. Rick's eyes popped open and he was suddenly face to face with Daryl's stern yet highly amused face, dark sapphires gazing at him, unimpressed. 

Guiltily, he shot up from his floor bed, and glared at Daryl.   
"What do you want?," he snapped. 

"Rise 'n shine sweetheart," the redneck taunted yanking his poncho from around Rick, making the poor man hiss from the frigid chill of the morning air. 

"Hey! What the hell?!," Rick hissed hugging himself tightly to fight the evil coldness attacking his senses. 

Sighing at the spasming idiot, Daryl draped his poncho around Rick's shaking shoulders again and rolled his eyes.   
"You're a baby," he commented before leaving the tower. 

...  
As the sun rose to its zenith in the sky, it became hotter and Rick could feel it burn through his plaid shirt as he hammered another nail into the pen he was making for a pig Hershel had found just outside the prison. The old man was sure serious about his farming, since he had Rick working all day in the hot sun like some field slave. He understood that they all had jobs to do but sheesh, a little break in between couldn't hurt. 

"Hey!," a rough voice yelled at him from a distance. 

He turned around to see who it was but found himself being pulled by gravity, swaying on wobbly legs, towards the earth. A firm arm around his stomach held him steady before he hit the ground. 

"Hey, hey, Rick ...look at me," the voice whispered softly, before he collapsed into the solid body supporting him.   
"Dammit." 

...  
When Rick came to, he realised that his head was in someone's lap. He breathed in deeply, and smelled ...Daryl. Looking up, he saw the hunter gazing sadly down at him. 

"Wha'happened?," he choked out, frowning hard. 

"You passed out. The heat got to ya," Daryl explained quietly, stroking his fingers blankly through Rick's soft curls. "Here," he continued, pressing a bottle of water to Rick's chapped lips, forcing him to drink. Rick's body convulsed when Daryl's hand gripped the back of his neck, holding him in place to lap at the water. 

"Easy now, ...if you drink too much at once, you'll puke," the hunter warned, and so Rick obediently started sipping the water timidly. 

When Rick finished drinking, he collapsed back down into Daryl's lap, body throbbing with exhaustion. 

"What's going on with you?," Daryl implored, stroking the curls that fell into his face back, way past his hairline. 

Closing his eyes, Rick shook his head.   
"I'm losing it," he confided, "Everywhere I go ...I see her and our kids ...and everytime, she would say that it was my fault that she died. That I wasn't there to protect her. And ...I just want it to stop. The fact that I'm living is punishment enough ...what more can I do to show her that ...I never wanted this Daryl. Just ...wish I could give up."

Daryl eyed Rick with a melancholic expression, gaze softening as Rick turned on his side and curled up against the hunter's stomach.   
"She your wife?"

"Mmhmm," Rick muffled against his shirt. 

"And she got bit ..."

"They all got bit. A herd passed through our camp."

"Where were you?"

"Was out, getting food. Had just bagged a deer, heard the screams when I was dragging it back and by the time I got there ...it was too late."

"Wasn't yer fault."

"So it was their fault that they died? Got torn to pieces by those ...things!" 

"No. I don't think anyone can be blamed for what happened. Shit happens in this world that you can't ever be prepared for. You weren't raised to live in a world like this, so don't blame yerself fer something that you can't control."

When Rick remained silent, he tried another angle.

"Rick, its so easy to die these days, ...that's how you wanna go? One bite and its all over?"

He paused a minute to think about what Daryl had said, and what it meant. What it meant for him and what it would mean for Lori and the kids.   
"But ...I don't wanna let them go," he surmised, sitting up but staring directly at Daryl, who was still looking calmly at him. 

"So don't. As long as you live, you can remember them. But if yer dead, then their memories would be too. Don't know if I'm makin's sense to ya, but trust me, suicide is always the coward's way out, in the old world and in this world."

Nodding thoughtfully, Rick sighed and ran a hand over his face. He chuckled softly.   
"I don't know when we became best friends," he teased, but Daryl looked non too amused, "But I like it." 

The hunter frowned at him and offered a small smile.   
"We aint best friends Rick. We're family now, ...yer a part of our group now."

Sighing, Rick rubbed his eyes, tiredly.   
"I gotta get back to making that pen for the pigs. Hershel will kill me when he finds out I've been sleeping on the job," he joked, rising shakily to his feet as Daryl got up with him. 

"No, go and take a rest, get somethin' to eat. I'll deal with Hershel's little project." 

Rick smiled brightly.   
"Really?"

"Yeah. This is just fer today, so don't think you're off the hook," Daryl said dryly, making Rick roll his eyes in mock annoyance. 

"Yes Mr. Dixon."


	4. All i See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme inspired by Memories by Within Temtation

Snuff   
Chapter Four – All I see   
(Chapter theme inspired by Memories by Within Temptation)

The horror story that was Rick’s life had started out simple enough. A ghost there, voices here …and the woman in white. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that it was his Lori. No, she wouldn’t do that to him. He saw the humor in it though, the ghost of his dead wife haunting his ass in life and in death. Daryl didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. There was no escape. Not from this.   
Sweat dripped down his neck as he savagely stabbed the hoe into the dark soil of the prison’s vegetable garden. He was thankful for the opportunity Hershel had given him to occupy his mind and body with a task that was so physically demanding that by the time he was done, all he wanted to do was sleep because he would be too exhausted to even think. What he wasn’t thankful for was the long period of alone time he was given …by himself, so open and vulnerable to the ghosts of his subconscious.   
It didn’t help as well that Daryl was scarce today since he elected to go on a supply run to get some medicines to restore their stocks. Rick himself had volunteered to go with but Daryl had quickly shot him down. His heart broke a little at that since he thought that they had grown closer to each other in the last few days. But, apparently that wasn’t the case. So, with his pride and esteem bruised a good bit, he had retreated to his adoptive farming project and kept mostly to himself.   
Daryl stayed on his mind like an irritant and he felt himself growing increasingly angry with the man. One minute he preached to Rick about trying to put his life to better use and the next, he’s refused Rick’s first attempt to pitch in and not wallow in his misery.   
“Too late Dixon,” he mutters harshly to himself, pretty sure he’s about to delve deep into his wallows and miseries. And it physically hurt that Daryl was nowhere around to help him through it.   
The first thought that comes to mind is the last image he has of Lori and his children being torn apart by over a dozen of those ….monsters. Their screams pitched loudly in his ears and he screams along with them. He tries to fight his way into the carnage of swarming, bloody bodies but there are too many of those things. A fresh dark pulse of blood sprays into his face before Lori’s beautiful but anguished face disappears for the last time. Her screams and desperate cries dissipate as well. Carl and Judith are long gone before he could even do something about it. And then he’s hacking away like a mad man into the mass of bodies.   
He’s crying. He isn’t afraid to admit that he cried …like a baby. After he had taken care of all the walkers he simply curled up into a small ball near the campsite, lost to the world and cried. His life was literally ripped out of his hands right in front of him. The one question left to him was: What now?  
What else did he have to live for? There was no one in this wilderness that was the world to help him. But then again, help him with what? Bring him back from what? How did he even come back from this? It seemed that all he was occupied with now was these virulent questions swirling round and round in his fucking head. And he couldn’t escape from it.   
“Rick?”  
Snapping violently out of his reverie, Rick realizes that he’s crying again as his hands grip the wooden staff of the hoe tightly. His tears have long been absorbed into the freshly turned soil but they’re still falling. He swore that he’d cried out all of them that day.   
“Rick?”  
There was that voice again. He swivelled around to tell Carol that he wasn’t hungry but saw no one. Then out of the corner of his eyes he saw a flash of white. His big blue eyes followed the rustle of white until he saw the woman in white. His eyes squinted at the slim figure that stood poised properly like she knew something that he didn’t. But he knew those long brunette locks. Those slender shoulders he so loved kissing every day. That warm creamy skin.   
“L …Lori?” he asks with an uncertainty that makes his voice shiver like a thousand leaves in the forest.   
The figure turns around slowly and then it’s her hazel eyes that bore right into him.   
“Rick,” she whispers in that soft, sweet tone that sounds like honey over shards of glass.   
She’s standing right in front of him in a flash, her gentle hands cupping his face. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes at the feel of her presence. His heart race slows until all he can hear is her breathing. She is all consuming and he just wants to bury his face into her neck and tell her how sorry he is.   
And so, that’s what he says.   
“I’m so sorry Lori.”  
She murmurs her acceptance of his apology but then her soft hold on his face starts to grow stronger, her sharp nails digging into his jaw.   
“Sorry? For what baby?”  
“I …” he begins but is cut off by a strong growl that emanates from deep within her throat. This is a side of Lori he’s never seen.   
“You’re sorry for what baby?” she murmurs going all sweet and soft again.   
“I’m sorry for not being there. I …I came back too late and …you and Carl and Judy were already gone. I was too late …I,” he breaks himself off before he chokes up again.  
“Yeah …you forgot about us didn’t you? Was probably thinking of someone else when you went hunting too. I wouldn’t put it past you Richard …you’re capable of such a treachery.” Lori antagonizes in a harsh and low voice that has Rick reeling back in hurt.   
“No! Baby, no! You’re talking crazy …I would never do that to you.” He assures as if it would change the evil judgemental look she’s casting his way at the moment. He’s shaking his head virulently as if it would make her understand.   
“No Richard.” She snaps yanking herself away from his outreaching hands. “You did this! You killed us!”   
“No …” he whimpers but she’s not listening.   
“Killed us all!”  
“No! Listen to me!”  
“You killed us all Richard!”  
“God …” he wails out before his knees hit the ground and he keels over in agony.   
“Rick!”  
“No!”  
“Richard!”  
“Get out!”  
“Rick!”  
“Get out of my head!”   
“Rick!”  
“No!”  
“RICK! WAKE UP!”   
In the matter of two seconds, Rick’s large blue eyes have popped open, relinquishing him from his nightmare. He chokes out a harsh breath before looking up into the profile of Hershel, the sun illuminating behind him like Jesus. There are tears in his eyes and he can feel them running down his cheeks. He can feel his heart pulsing with emotion, pain. Where was Lori? He goes to speak and hers is the first name that comes out of his mouth.  
“Lori?”  
Stooping down to his level, the old farmer eyes him sympathetically.  
“No Lori, just Hershel Rick. Are you alright son?” he asks pressing a palm to Rick’s sweaty forehead.  
Rick pulls his head away from the caring touch feeling much too vulnerable at the moment. Where was Daryl when he needed him? He didn’t care that the dumb bastard had left him to go on a stupid supply run, he needed him!   
“I’m fine.”  
“Were you talking to Lori? Is that who you were seeing?” Hershel tries again but it’s still too fresh a wound to talk about. So instead, he shakes his head and Hershel nods in understanding. He gets to his feet and then helps Rick up gently.   
“Come on son, let’s get you inside, fed and you can rest in your cell.”   
…  
When Daryl returns from his run, he immediately knows something is wrong.   
His family is regarding him with sad eyes and sullen postures that make him feel terribly uneasy. He drops the newly acquired supplies on the table in front of him and sighs.  
Maggie takes it upon herself to answer his unvoiced yet understood question. They all knew how Daryl worried whenever they lost one of their families. He was near inconsolable about Sophia and didn’t think he could deal with another loss.   
“It’s okay Daryl. No one’s hurt, we’re all fine but …” she begins but her father stops her with a soft hand on her tensed shoulder.   
“Walk with me son.”   
Daryl does as he’s told.   
They’re down the hall when Hershel stops a good way away from the rest of their family.   
“Start talkin’ old man,” Daryl snips, “The suspense is killing me. What the hell’s going on?”  
“It’s Rick.”  
Hershel notes how Daryl tenses up immediately at the mention of the man, his thumb already in his mouth nervously.   
“He dead?”  
‘No, but he’s been talking to …Lori.”  
“Lori?”  
“Yes. His dead wife. He says he saw her and she was screaming at him because it was his fault. His fault that she and the kids died. He didn’t say much after that …just went to his cell without eating. He’s been curled up on the floor since then. He won’t talk to anyone else Daryl. Please help him.”  
“Okay.”  
Daryl stands still for a while before he finally nods and begins his daunting trip to Rick Grimes’ cell.   
…  
When he gets there, it’s not a pretty sight. The man is curled up in muddy and soiled clothes that no doubt stink since Daryl knows he’s been working on the farm all morning. Rick doesn’t hear him approach or maybe he does but refuses to acknowledge his intrusion. His curls are all drooping around his head and his hands cover his face. There’s a suspicious sniffling sound and Daryl knows he’s crying.   
“Rick?” he murmurs softly, leaning up against the doorway of his cell.   
No answer.   
He hadn’t been expecting one anyway. But the sniffling ceases almost immediately.   
Rick hears the rustling of Daryl’s clothes as he kneels beside him now, hand dangerously to a hurt soul that doesn’t want to be touched. He feels all of the anger and hate flooding back into him as he recalls how the man refused to let him tag along on the supply run. And then the hand brushes his shoulder.  
And he loses it.   
“Get the fuck off me!” he screams at Daryl who for the most part looks spooked and startled. He however respects Rick’s wish and retrieves his hand slowly.   
“Rick …you okay? What happened today?” he asks gently, his voice soft and cautious.   
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Rick spits bitterly, turning away from Daryl but keeping the foetal position.   
“R …” Daryl tries to say again but is cut off by a growl from Rick who swivels around to face Daryl once again, a cold fire burning in his blue eyes.   
“Stop calling my name like it’s some kind of fucking key word or something! Stop calling me! She called me that all the time like if it was some kind of fucking curse! Like if my name made her sick and you know what, maybe it did! Maybe I really am the reason they’re all dead! I tried Daryl believe me! I swear to God I tried. But I was too late! And now she blames me. Just like she always did. The car’s not working, it’s cos of Richard. The fridge’s light is out, Rick did it. The dog died, its fucking Richard’s fault. My children died, it’s Richard’s fault! I cheated on my husband with his best friend because it’s all his fault!”   
By the time Rick’s done he’s breathing hard and he’s glaring at Daryl as if he’s Lori.   
“It’s all my fault I didn’t get to go with you today on that run too huh? I’m that much of a fuck up to you right? Rick wants to go with but no, he could fuck up the run with all of his screaming and crying. He’s a loose cannon can’t have him killing my family. Rick’s just bad news and bad luck!”  
“What the hell are you talking about man?” Daryl yells, fixing Rick with a stony glare of his own.  
“Today you asshole!” Rick positively screams shoving Daryl back with a hard push to the chest almost pushing him out of the cell. He reacts quickly though and grabs Rick’s small wrists tightly in his hands to stop him from throwing those weak punches.   
“I asked if I could go with you. I wanted to give this place a shot for real now because that’s what you said asshole. You said not to wallow and do my best to help others so I asked and what do you do? Say ‘no’ like I’m some kind of hazard to you and your family or something.”  
“Hey, listen to me! You’re not a hazard to me or your family Rick! I didn’t let you go with me coz you’re real vulnerable right now. I don’t want you out there and in danger.”  
“I’m in danger out there either ways Daryl! Or did you forget about the damn walkers!” Rick snaps trying to wriggle his wrists out of Daryl’s strong grip but was futile.   
“I know. That’s why I don’t want you out there. You could get hurt and then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got bit because you were too lost deep in thoughts of Lori to even notice!”   
Rick flinches at the sound of Lori’s name and stops his struggle, going limp in Daryl’s grip. He lets his body sag into Daryl’s like he’s done since he and the hunter had gotten closer and buries his face in the man’s shoulder. He sobs hard into the hard muscle as Daryl’s hands wrap protectively around him. Daryl on the other hand is frowning with concern. The small, weak frame of Rick’s body shakes and shivers as Daryl holds him and he realises that he’s actually holding up all of the man’s weight and if he let go, he’d collapse on the floor.   
“It’s gonna be alright Rick. I swear.” He promises with gritted teeth as his voice starts Rick up again.   
“No it won’t! It will never be okay again! You don’t …” he starts but Daryl’s had enough.  
“Baby shut up!” he snarls grabbing Rick’s face roughly in his hands. He shuts up so quickly that Daryl feels bad for yelling but then gets over it quickly. Rick needed to hear what he had to say. Huge, blue eyes are boring into him like a puppy that’s been lost and has grown attached to Daryl for some weird reason.   
He dips his head forward and kisses those plump, pink lips so softly that Rick doesn’t even realise that he’s just been kissed by a man. He does come back to his senses soon enough though and slaps Daryl so hard that the man exclaims in shock before moving back slightly, clutching his face. They stare at each other in catatonic silence and can only hear each other’s breathing for a while before Rick grabs Daryl again and presses his lips to the shocked man, his tongue forcing its way into Daryl’s mouth.   
When Daryl pulls away to get some air, Rick bites his lower lip seductively and smiles slightly at him. “I’m sorry.”  
“For what?” Daryl rasps, licking his lips, desperate for another taste.  
“For hitting you.” Rick mutters lowly as he stares down at his boots like a petulant kid that’s just been scolded.   
“It’s cool.” Daryl murmurs, “You sorry about anything else?”   
When Rick gazes up at him, he doesn’t see any malice or hate. He sees Rick for the first time and he smiles.  
“No.” Rick whispers.


End file.
